


Yours and Mine

by HopelessFashionGirl



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-01-23 07:39:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18545278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopelessFashionGirl/pseuds/HopelessFashionGirl
Summary: The mastermind of the Killing School Life - Junko Enoshima - was foiled in her plans, but her punishment was not the execution she so desired. Instead, she faces rehabilitation at the hands of her former victims; and so the Ultimate Despair is condemned to join Class 77-B in the Neo World Program.





	1. Prologue - Initiation

“This is a terrible idea. In fact, I would go so far as to say it’s abysmal.”

The room had been draped in silence, the quiet punctuated only by the swift tapping of Kyoko Kirigiri’s gloved fingers dancing tirelessly over a keyboard. She paused now that the peaceful hush was broken yet again, and cut her eyes back at the culprit. The sedation chamber was dark, the pale glow of a mounted monitor silhouetting her slender frame in the gloom.

“You’ve made your thoughts on the matter known several times now Togami, however, it won’t change our course of action. We have the majority vote, which you agreed to abide by.”

The room was chilled to prevent the machines within from overheating, and long tubes of coolant snaked around the column-like mainframe at its center. The heir’s breath billowed out in a cloud of fog as he sighed angrily.

“Yes, but I never expected you to be so foolish as to agree to go forward with this ridiculous plan of his,” he sneered.

“I chose to trust in Naegi’s decision, he hasn’t steered us wrong thus far,” she answered, having already turned back to her work. “Now please be quiet. This is nerve-wracking enough without your interruptions.”

Byakuya Togami grit his teeth and cast his eyes over the circle of pods lining the room’s perimeter, all but two containing the comatose body of a Remnant of Despair; individuals that comprised an organization of terrorists directly responsible for the world’s downfall. Thick bundles of cables connected the pods to the machine in the center of the room, where Kirigiri was still typing, her unblinking eyes trained on the central input monitor. Other monitors were stationed around the mainframe’s periphery, one for each pod, all displaying indecipherable streams of code. Data taken from their occupants.

Fifteen pods were filled, and only one remained empty.

Togami stepped over a bundle of cables to stand behind Kirigiri, glancing at the final line of code as she finished typing and her hands stilled.

“Disregarding your blind faith in Naegi, do you have any other reasons for believing this will work, or is that _truly_ the only reason you need?”

Kirigiri turned to face him, her expression was impassive, but there was a certain hard coolness to her gaze that betrayed her growing irritation.

“If you’re so opposed to this, why did you bother coming in the first place? I’m sure Fukawa would appreciate your complaints more than Naegi and I.” Her voice was clipped. 

“Obviously someone in their right mind should be present. If you won’t be the voice of reason then I--”

“If the two of you are finished with your dull bickering, I would like to begin.” An inflectionless voice sounded from the darkness just beyond the room’s entrance, interrupting the heir’s retort.

At once, their heads snapped around to behold the figure that had entered the room and approached them without a sound, appearing suddenly, as if he had been waiting there all along. He was quiet and not especially large, but his sheer bearing and presence commanded the attention of the other two ultimates. He stood as still as a statue, clad in an immaculate suit, and his long, dark hair hung lank over his shoulders. 

Despite his aloof demeanor, an aura of danger emanated from him. The tension in the room had spiked, and several seconds ticked by as no one spoke.

Izuru Kamukura’s crimson eyes flicked over to the central monitor, then to Kirigiri.

“You have finished your task,” he noted. He spoke slowly, carefully enunciating each word. No fog could be seen leaving his mouth.

“Yes,” Kirigiri responded, although Kamukura’s tone had suggested an observation rather than a question. “I’ve just finished setting her avatar’s parameters now.”

“And you have followed my instructions to the letter,” another observation. “Then we are ready. My own parameters have already been submitted, and the only remaining step is to initiate the program’s synchronization sequence once I enter the scanning chamber.”

Then, almost as abrubtly as he’d entered the room, their partner in crime was approaching the single empty pod, moving with abnormal fluidness. “Naegi will arrive momentarily, so I see no reason to delay any longer.”

By the time Togami got his mouth back under control, Kamukura had settled himself into the pod and begun the process of booting up the receiver helmet.

“Why help us? Why help the Remnants? What is it you hope to gain by doing this?” He didn’t understand the enigmatic man’s incentive for coming to Naegi and Kirigiri with his plan from the outset, and to the heir it reeked of an ulterior motive.

“Answers.” Kamukura’s cold voice held a note of assurance, but he didn’t deign to elaborate further. He placed the helmet on his head and leaned back into the pod before closing the hatch, evidently finished speaking with them.

“Well I supposed that’s that then,” Togami spat. He turned back to Kirigiri. “He’s manipulating us, and he’s not even trying to hide it. Until the very end, he claims to seek answers, yet he provides us with only silence and riddles, and you still wish to go forward with this?”

Kirigiri was frowning, a rare deviation from her usual impenetrable stoicism. She slowly unclenched her hands as the tension dissipated. “And what do you propose we do? Turn the Remnants over to Munakata for summary execution? No, we’ve already come this far, and we _will_ see it through to the end.”

“For better or worse?”

She paused. “Yes. Kamukura said that we would be able to observe the program’s progress from the outside.” Her hands began their restless motions over the keyboard once again. “We should start it now.”

“I thought you’d want to wait for Naegi to finish.”

“I’m here,” came a familiar voice. Makoto Naegi was lingering near the entrance with one hand on the doorframe, as if he were afraid to enter. “I could hear you down the hall. Are you two fighting again?”

“We were just having a small disagreement. Ignore it, it’s nothing to worry about.” The look she gave Togami promised that they would continue the discussion later. Privately.

Naegi’s eyes cut away to the pods. “And them?”

She gestured for him to enter. “Everything’s ready. I’m running the startup sequence now.”

While she finished inputting Kamukura’s codes, Naegi slowly, almost nervously, moved to stand near the pod their accomplice lay in.

No... he was going to the next one. Kamukura’s neighbor. He stood there silently, staring down at its occupant until Togami joined him. Physically, Naegi hadn’t changed much in the time since their ordeal at Hope’s Peak Academy, though like his comrades, he now wore the signature suit and pin of the Future Foundation. These days however, he was standing straighter, and he acted with a conviction that hadn’t been present before.

Despite that, it seemed that even he was beginning to have doubts about his decision.

“Do you think we made a mistake?”

“Don’t lump me in with the rest of you. If you’ll recall, I was outvoted, so as far as I’m concerned, this is your responsibility,” Togami growled. “Regardless, the program’s already being initiated as we speak. It’s a bit late to second-guess yourself.”

Naegi looked away from the chamber, focusing instead on his fellow survivor.

“But you don’t agree with this, do you?”

“I believe I’ve made that quite clear,” he answered dryly.

Kirigiri had arrived, her task done. She took Naegi’s other flank. “I’m apprehensive as well, but it’s as Togami said, it’s too late to stop now.”

Naegi relaxed a bit, returning his gaze to the pod, and the trio observed quietly as the comatose body of Junko Enoshima slumbered within the chamber, oblivious to the world around her. It was surreal to see such a peaceful expression on her face; in her sleep, she seemed like an entirely different person. The receiver helmet glowed, and by now her mind and consciousness would be loading into the Neo World Program, joining those of Ultimate Despair.

Strangely, Naegi seemed calmer in this situation than either of his friends. All three shared in the traumatic memories formed during Enoshima’s killing game. They had all been victimized by their former classmate, but Naegi appeared to be resolute in his desire to rehabilitate her despite the risks posed by her continued survival.

“If nothing else, this should be interesting,” Togami said, arms crossed.

Naegi didn’t have a response to that, instead choosing to avert his eyes from the pod again, perhaps unable to look for too long. Aloud, as if speaking to no one, he asked, “Kamukura wouldn’t really talk to me about it. How much of her did he have you erase? _All_ of her?”

Kirigiri’s answer came with some amount of hesitation. “That would be impossible. As it was explained to me, the Neo World Program requires a foundation with which to build an avatar. If the simulation is going to be successful in rehabilitating her, she will need an identity. Enough of her remains for that, and obviously she’ll keep things like general knowledge, but her personal experiences have been stripped away.”

Togami, of course, had other concerns. “When Munakata finds out this happened, and he will, do you even have a plan? Please tell me you don’t expect him to believe that we did this with only the best of intentions.”

“No. I have no doubt he’ll brand us traitors, but he has no way of knowing where we are. We’ll be safe until things are resolved here. We should wait until then before making any further plans.” Kirigiri paused to reflect. “I know it’s dangerously optimistic, but depending on the success of the Hope Restoration Program, perhaps _she_ may be willing to help us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, thanks for giving this a read! I've had this idea in my head for a while now, and I just needed to get it out. If people end up liking this, I'd love to continue it! Please leave me any feedback that you can! Your comments are very much appreciated!


	2. Arc 1 - Punishment

I drifted in peaceful silence. The world around me was dark, and inky blackness extended as far as I could see. I felt okay, despite the strangeness of it all. It was like lying on a cloud, or a raft coasting down a slow river; like I was being drawn somewhere, but there was no hurry to get to my destination

I thought while I waited, or I tried to. My mind was sluggish and stumbling, like my brain was swimming in syrup. Things came to me in drips, bit by bit. My perception of time was distorted, with it seeming to race by and crawl simultaneously, if it was moving at all. I didn’t mind the leisurely pace, and there were times when I didn’t seem to be aware of my surroundings at all, until I came back to myself. Like snapping out of a daydream, or waking up from a doze

I couldn’t say how long I’d been this way. Days or hours, I had no idea, but I was getting the sense that things were coming to a close. I was approaching whatever waited for me

Then, it was the end of the line. One moment I was floating, and then the dreamy impression vanished. I was standing now, with solid ground beneath my feet, and I could see a door up ahead. For a moment, I thought it was coming toward me, but then I realized that I was walking, my legs moving on their own

The door loomed, promising but foreboding. It was tall and wooden, with a silver handle on one side. It reminded me of those sliding doors you saw in _high schools_

My first day. Yes, I remembered now. This was my first day at Hope’s Peak Academy, the high school for geniuses

I raised my hand, and reached for the handle.

 

V(o)V

 

The wet sound of crashing waves breaking against the seashore gradually hauled me up from unconsciousness. There was a sensation of gentle heat on my face that I blearily identified as sunlight, and my fingers dug into a bed of sand. I took a deep breath, and the unmistakable taste of salty sea air invaded my senses.

_A beach._

But, that was wrong? There was a disconnect, a missing piece.

I gradually pushed myself into a sitting position. My body could’ve been made of lead, for all the trouble I had. Sand clung to my hair and crumbled off my back as I rose. There was a noticeable lack of strength in my limbs, like my muscles had turned to jelly, and the pins and needles sensation that accompanied prolonged numbness pricked at me so intensely that it was almost painful.

Saying I had a killer migraine would be an understatement. My head felt like a rotten watermelon ready to split. I clenched my teeth and pressed my fingers into my temples in an attempt to ease the throbbing pressure behind my eyes.

“Oh? You’re awake?”

_A stranger’s voice. Male. Standing directly over me._

The light lanced into my eyes mercilessly when I forced them open, and as they adjusted, I found myself facing a boy who seemed somewhat close to my age. He was bending down, hands on his knees, staring at me. When I met his gaze, I caught something like awe flash fleetingly through his eyes. My thoughts whirred.

_Admiration. Intense admiration._

Why?

I looked him up and down. His hair was a mess of white strands, styled in a way that reminded me of a bird’s nest. His clothes were the kind of bog standard thing that you’d find on any teenager: jeans, a white t-shirt, and a dark jacket. Nothing to arouse suspicion, but there was something immediately off-putting about him that my pained mind had trouble placing. He wasn’t blinking enough.

"Wanna help me up?" I decided to take the friendly approach. "Please?"

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m Nagito Komaeda,” he said, very pleasantly. He offered a hand.

We gripped each other’s wrists, and he pulled me to my feet. My legs were a bit wobbly and stiff, like I’d been lying down in the sand for longer than I thought. I took a moment to steady myself and swallow the hurt, then molded my face into a relaxed smile. I kept my voice light, airy, and a touch carefree. Disarming.

“Komaeda you said? Well nice to meet you, I’m Junko Enoshima.” I looked around, noting that there was no one else nearby, and my view inland was obscured by a long row of palm trees that bordered the beach. I decided to probe. “Where are we?”

He folded his arms. “I was hoping you could tell me. We only arrived a few minutes ago, and you were already there, lying in the sand.”

_No hint of a lie in his voice or expression. He’s telling the truth._

“We?” I asked. His face shifted, features becoming something subtly rapturous. It was strangely unsettling, seeing the change come over him so quickly; like he’d slipped off a mask and had this new face waiting beneath. I may have missed it, if I hadn’t been studying him so carefully.

“Class 77-B of Hope’s Peak Academy,” he said. The pitch of his voice had only changed minutely, but I heard the naked adoration in it. “Fourteen Ultimates and myself. My classmates left to explore after Tsumiki assured us that you were unhurt, but I stayed behind. Another of my classmates, Hajime Hinata, was unwell like you.” Komaeda smiled. “I thought it would be better if the two of you didn’t wake up alone.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, away from the shore. “Hinata was fine. He left to go meet the others just before you came to.”

I was picking up a distinct pattern in his way of speaking, and faint warning bells were beginning to sound. The pounding in my head was making it difficult for me to think straight. It was distracting, and I didn’t have time to respond before he was talking again, this time more to himself than me.

“You didn’t meet the rest of us in the classroom, but you’re clearly a student of Hope’s Peak.” He paused, contemplating. “Ah! You must be from another class!”

Clearly a student? My uniform had probably given it away. I glanced down to brush off some of the sand still stubbornly clinging to me, only to be surprised that I _wasn’t_ dressed in my Hope’s Peak uniform. Instead I wore a black school blazer, complete with the Hope’s Peak crest sewn into the left breast pocket, over a white collared blouse. My skirt and laced boots were black, but the laces, and my necktie, were red. I’d changed clothes, and I couldn’t remember when. There it was again: the feeling of something missing, a gap in my knowledge that I couldn’t explain.

_There is a gap. Time has passed._

“Yeah… that’s right. I remember, I was going in for my first day.” My vision blurred as pain surged through my mind, pulsing behind my eyes. I grit my teeth, and tried not to let it show.

“So you were entering the freshman class as well? If I may, what’s your Ultimate talent? I know it’s not my place to ask, but I’m curious.”

I could tell by the marginal widening of his eyes and the way he seemed to hold his breath that he was more than just curious. To give him credit, he was doing a decent job of hiding it, but I had something of an eye for details.

_He carries a deep fascination for Ultimate talents. Possibly an obsession._

“I…” My mouth opened, but my tongue stilled when no answer came to me.

The realization struck me so suddenly that it felt like I'd had a glass of freezing water tossed in my face. I struggled to keep my expression under control while alarm shot through me.

There was a black, yawning hole in my memory, right where my entire life should’ve been.

Thankfully, my mouth clicked shut before I managed to say something revealing. Inwardly, panic was quickly mounting while I combed my burning mind, frantically grasping for any recollection. To my relief, I touched on something faint, hiding in a dark corner at the back of my brain. I snatched it, refusing to let go of my only lifeline.

_My name is Junko Enoshima. It’s my first year at Hope's Peak Academy, and I was going to meet my class today. I’m the Ultimate Analyst._

That was all my memory coughed up. Everything else was missing. My mind was a clean slate, stretching all the way up to the moment I found myself here. It made me think of a book with half the pages ripped out, and the other half blank.

The cogs in my head were beginning to shake off the cobwebs of unconsciousness and kick into overdrive. I was a high school student, and I should’ve had a life’s worth of memories, but I only recalled vague details about myself. The rest of my knowledge base seemed intact, and that worried me because it _wasn’t_ how amnesia worked. You didn’t lose select memories with this level of consistency and keep everything that remained; like removing pieces from a jigsaw puzzle without completely taking it apart. Amnesia was a symptom of brain damage, and its effects could vary from person to person. Even then, it was very rare. This was too neat, too directed.

_This was deliberate. My memories were erased for a purpose._

The conclusion slithered through my mind, interrupting my train of thought and raising the hairs on the back of my neck. A part of my subconscious sensed that I could be in danger, and I mentally switched gears to accommodate the sudden revelation. I was coming to realize that the shape of my memory loss bore the hallmarks of a designer, and that I was detecting the imprint of something not natural, but artificial.

My eyes locked onto Komaeda. He’d been the only one around when I regained consciousness, which made him my first suspect. For all I knew, he could be responsible for my amnesia, or involved with whoever was. I wasn’t aware of any kind of technology that could be capable of memory erasure, but that hardly proved it was impossible.

Nearly one second had passed, possibly long enough for him to notice my hesitation, but his expression hadn’t changed, and it gave no indication that he was aware of the tumultuous thoughts swirling in my mind. He wasn't dressed for the beach, which meant he could’ve been brought here unexpectedly like me.

_He’s not responsible. Doesn’t know about the amnesia._

“...Sorry,” I finished, surprised by the hitch in my voice. I let my smile turn apologetic. “My talent isn’t exactly straightforward. It’d be easier to demonstrate it for you, but I’ve got a serious migraine and I feel like I've been wrestling a bear, so just let me take a few to recover. I’ll feel better soon, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I guess that’s not surprising.” He was trying to sound indifferent, but the ‘Oh’ had a certain breathiness to it that betrayed his interest. “Hinata was having trouble with his talent, and he was pretty out of it too.”

I made a mental note to talk to this Hinata as soon as I could. I'd need to learn if we were in the same boat. “Hey, I’ll be sure you’re the first to know when I’m ready, so don’t worry too much about it,” I reassured him. I wanted to play my cards close to my chest until I knew more about what was going on, and that meant keeping secrets. I stamped down on the panic, and set the blithe mask back in place. I didn’t want to let it slip that I was an amnesiac. Still, there was something else on my mind.

“You said that your class is here? Do you know if there are any teachers around?”

“That’s right.” He scratched the back of his head. “You wouldn’t have met Usami."

“Usami? That’s your teacher? So your _entire_ class is here?” I asked.

“She mentioned something about a school trip when we met at Hope’s Peak. She didn’t say anything about where we’d be going though. That's why I thought to ask you.”

_A school trip. Their teacher brought them here._

I’d need to find her too, if I had arrived the same way. The uncomfortable feeling, and the migraine, hadn’t passed, and I felt it was time to cut this conversation short. I needed space to think and pull myself together. Komaeda struck me as the perceptive type, and I didn’t want him sniffing anything out while I was still off-balance.

“Alright, I’ll go look for her. Maybe my class is here too. I could hardly speak with any of them before the trip.”

“I hope so, but to meet so many Ultimates already, I really am the Ultimate Lucky student.” He grinned. “Usami left with my other classmates, but you should be able to find her easily, even if you’re still feeling shaky. You’ll know her when you see her; she’s very unusual.”

_Komaeda considers himself lucky to simply interact with Ultimates._

“Unusual? What do you mean?” I asked.

“It’s something you need to see for yourself. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. I really wasn’t eager for more surprises, not until my head cleared and I could properly process things. On the bright side, he’d revealed his talent without me having to ask.

_Ultimate Luck. Worth remembering. Exploitable._

I hummed. “Okay then. Seeya later Komaeda, and thanks again for the help!”

“Sure, good luck finding your class.”

I gave him a short bow and turned to leave. I was careful to make it look natural, like I wasn’t hurrying away, but sticking around any longer before I got my bearings would be dangerous. Thankfully my stride was steady and I slipped away, trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes on my back.

_Obsession. He’s dangerously fixated on the ideology of Hope’s Peak Academy. Only needs a small push to succumb to his extremist tendencies._

My heart thudded against my ribs. That last tidbit didn’t bode well, but it was information; data to feed my talent. What I needed most, in my condition, was information. I’d been caught off-guard by the memory loss, and Komaeda had likely noticed. My mask was chipped, but given time, it could be repaired. No way he’d see through me again, not after I got my head on straight. There was still the mystery of my amnesia as well. Anyone here could be a potential enemy, including Komaeda. Absurdly, I found that the danger hardly bothered me, and instead I wondered if all students of Hope’s Peak were so interesting.

I cleared the treeline, and left the beach behind, already considering how I could use him if my worst theories were correct.

 

V(o)V

 

Komaeda watched her leave, the red mane of her hair vanishing into the palm trees that lined the fringes of the beach.

She was an Ultimate, no doubt about that. Even when he ignored the Hope’s Peak uniform, she clearly stood out from the chaff. The worthless masses clogging up the world didn’t have deep, crimson eyes that bored straight into you, as if peeling back the layers of skin to take a peek at the soul underneath. He could tell from a single glance that Junko Enoshima was special, even among Ultimates.

 _Her talent must be something truly marvelous if she feels the need to hide it,_ he thought.

He could hardly suppress the shiver of anticipation that ran through him at the idea of seeing this demonstration she’d promised. An Ultimate in their element was like no other sight on Earth.

But his curiosity could wait. For now, he needed to catch up with Hinata. Enoshima wasn’t going anywhere, and he’d have plenty of time to pick her brain after she recovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here we go. Junko gets first person perspective, and everyone else gets third person. I hope to update this regularly, but I am a slow writer unfortunately. I may edit part of the prologue, as there's something I'd like to add to it. I'll mention that in the next chapter if I end up doing it. As always please leave a comment, it brightens my day, helps me improve as a writer, and motivates me to work!


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